“Tanya…”
But even he felt his spirits growing lighter as the First Fleet finally jumped out of Sobek Star System.
Four days to Simur.
Four days to second-guess every step he had taken since leaving Varandal.
Four days to dwell on the losses the fleet had suffered as it went through enigma space, into the Kick star system, then fought the Kicks at Honor Star System, before returning to human space through Dancer territory and fighting the enigmas again at Midway. And now the losses at Sobek.
He had thought it was over. That no one else serving under his command would have to die, that no more ships would be lost. But the enigmas, the Kicks, then the Syndics again had proven him wrong.
The enigmas had been beaten once more, and some little bit learned about them, but there had been no visible progress toward mutual understanding and peaceful coexistence. How many of his decisions in enigma space had been wrong, had led to more problems instead of any solutions?
Had he made the right decisions at Midway, or had he backed a couple of dictators who would rule as badly as the Syndic CEOs they had once been?
The last two surviving Kick prisoners continued to hover on the edge of death as Dr. Nasr tried to keep them sufficiently sedated to remain unconscious so they wouldn’t will themselves to death, yet not so heavily sedated that they would die from that. Medical calculations that even now sometimes went wrong with humans were much more difficult when dealing with living creatures with which human medicine had no experience.
And they had been forced to kill so many Kicks. Small wonder that Invincible felt like she was packed with angry ghosts. There had to be some material explanation for the ghosts, some Kick device, but he couldn’t imagine what could create such sensations, and part of him could not help wondering if the ghosts aboard Invincible were exactly what they felt like.
If Charban was right, even the Dancers might be playing some subtle games with humanity.
Getting home would offer little respite. If his guesses were right, powerful factions of the government and within the Alliance military were scheming and maneuvering against each other and against Geary and this fleet.
He didn’t really know anyone here, in this future a century removed from when he had once lived. Those he had known well, people who had shared the same life experiences as he in an Alliance at peace for the most part, were long dead. In their place were strangers who had grown up knowing nothing but war more terrible than Geary had once thought possible.
He was sitting slumped at his desk when Tanya stopped by his stateroom. “What’s the occasion?” he asked. “You never come by here.”
“I don’t come by often because I don’t want people thinking I’m grabbing a quick one with my Admiral and my husband,” she replied, eyeing him. “But my Admiral and my husband has been holed up in his stateroom for long enough that my crew is starting to comment on it. And now I’m looking at him, and he looks like hell. What’s the matter?”
His reluctance to talk shattered like a dam under too much pressure, words pouring out to his own surprise. “I’m not good enough for this, Tanya. I keep making mistakes. People keep dying. I screwed up with the enigmas and the Kicks. I shouldn’t have accepted the orders for this mission, and I shouldn’t have accepted command of this fleet.”
“Oh. Is that all?”
He stared at her in disbelief for several seconds before he could find his voice again. “How can you—?”
“Admiral, I’d be dead now if not for you. Because I would have fought Dauntless to the last when the Syndics crushed the Alliance fleet at Prime. You do remember that, right? What would have happened if you hadn’t been there?”
“Dammit, Tanya, that’s not—”
“You have to remain focused on the positives, Admiral. Because, yes, you will make mistakes. People under your command will die. Guess what? Even if you were perfect, even if you were the greatest, luckiest, most brilliant, and most talented commander in the entire history of humanity, people under your command would still die.”
She was speaking slowly, her tones hard enough to edge against being harsh. “Do you think you’re the only one who ever lost someone? Who ever wished they had done things differently? Who felt like they had let down everyone who had depended upon them? If you keep judging yourself against perfection, you will fall short. Feel free to aim for perfection. I like that in a commander and much prefer it to superiors who aim for perfection in their subordinates. But when you inevitably fall short of perfection, don’t consider yourself a failure. Look at what might have happened. Look at how many might have died. Look at what you couldn’t have done. We need Black Jack in command because he is the worst commanding officer we’ve ever had with the exception of every other commanding officer I have ever served under.”
“Is that everything?” he asked.
“No.” She leaned in closer, her eyes on his. “You’ve still got me.”
He felt the darkness that had been weighing upon him lighten. She was a child of war, but they had connected in a way he had never connected with anyone a hundred years before. He wasn’t alone. “So, it could be worse.”
“Hell, yes.” Desjani raised one eyebrow at him. “What else?”
“There isn’t anything else.”
“Are you lying to me as my Admiral or as my husband?”
Geary shook his head. “I should have known I couldn’t get anything past you. I’ve been wondering.”
After a long moment waiting for him to continue, Tanya smiled with obvious insincerity. “Thank you for filling me in on that.”
“Why do you put up with me? You could do a lot better.”
She laughed, which was the last reaction he had expected. “You found me out! I’m just keeping you around until something better shows up.”
“Tanya, dammit—”
“How could you even ask me that? How could you say that?” Desjani blew out a long breath, regaining her composure. “When was the last time you checked in with the head-menders in sick bay?”
“I haven’t… I don’t know offhand.”
“You’re supposed to be providing a good example to every other officer, sailor, and Marine in this fleet, Admiral. That includes getting your head checked when trauma stress gets too hard to deal with. If the men and women of this fleet don’t see you going to get taken care of, they’ll think they shouldn’t, either. They need to see you getting help, so they’ll get it when they need it, too.”
He nodded again. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And don’t start with that! You know I’m right! Why did I have to come looking for you to find out what was wrong? Why didn’t you call me? And when’s the last time you had a good talk with your ancestors? Our ancestors, that is, since you and I tied the knot.”
“About a week ago. To talk about Orion.”
She bit her lip, taking a moment to reply. “Good. I’ve been trying to put together a message for Shen’s daughter.”
“And I’ve been too sunk in my own slough of despair to help.” Geary extended a hand toward her but didn’t touch her. “Thanks, Tanya, for reminding me about my responsibilities. I have to use them to motivate me instead of letting them overwhelm me. I’ll go down to sick bay.”
“When?”
“Uh… later.”
“Fifteen minutes, Admiral. I’ll give you that long to straighten up. Then meet me at my stateroom, and we’ll both go to sick bay, and when we’re done there, we’ll go down to the worship spaces and have a talk with our ancestors.”